Running Up That Hill
by VelocityGirl1980
Summary: Sequel to Everything But the Girl. Newly weds Guy and Marian haven't even begun to adapt to their new life, when an unexpected turn of events rocks them - parenthood. Annie, mother of Guy's illegitimate son, is dying. Marian convinces Guy to face up to his final demon and rescue the child from a life of adversity. But, has Guy got what it takes to be the father he never had?
1. Behind Blue Eyes

**Summary/Author's Note:** the newly wed Guy and Marian haven't even begun to adapt to their new roles in life, when an unexpected turn of events rocks their new world - parenthood. The Sheriff still lives. An uneasy truce between Guy and Robin is still in its infancy. To cap it all, Annie (the mother of Guy's illegitimate son) is dying. With no one else to step in and rescue two year old Seth from a lifetime of poverty and adversity, Marian convinces Guy to face his final demon and take responsibility for the child he once tried to destroy.

This begins where "Everything but the Girl" left off (the evening of Guy and Marian's wedding). Although loose ends from that story will be tied up in this, it's not necessary to have read EBTG to understand what's going on here. The usual disclaimers apply. Reviews would be very welcome, thank you.

* * *

**Chapter One: Come What May**

_**"No one knows what it's like,**__**  
**__**To be the bad man,**__**  
**__**To be the sad man,**__**  
**__**Behind blue eyes."**_

_**(Behind Blue Eyes, The Who).**_

Guy folds the letter in his hands carefully, before turning to look out of the window and down onto the forecourt below. It's late. So late that only source of light is the sickle moon, louring over the battlements of Nottingham Castle. The grounds are deserted. Torch flames flicker in their sconces, but even the guards have retired indoors and Guy feels like he's living in a ghost town. Like he's the last person alive. But, before the isolation sets in, he turns to look over his shoulder, at the shapeless mass on the large, tester bed. It rises and falls in time to the gentle snores that emanate from within. Dark hair fans out against the creamy fabric of the pillow slip and a patch of silver skin, marked by dark lashes closed over her bright blue eyes. Marian sleeps on, oblivious to her restive, sleepless, husband.

For a long moment, he's content to watch her and wonder where her dreams carry her. Is she reliving their wedding, just twelve hours ago? Or is she back in the forest, in the arms of-. He cuts his thoughts off there. They have no regrets, he knows they have no regrets. At least, not yet.

Silently, Guy slides down from the ledge, careful not to land too heavily on his bare feet lest he should wake her. He pads across the floor, grateful for the fresh rushes that line the wooden floorboards as he silently approaches the bed. Crouching down at her side, he softly presses down the quilt and brushes a kiss against her exposed cheek. Rocking back on his heels, he looks at her again, taking in the beauty of her soft, malleable skin, slack with sleep. But not a moment later, a small moan escapes her parted lips as she rolls over on her side. A fist tights around the edge of the quilt as her eyelids flutter open.

"I'm sorry," whispers Guy, quickly leaning forwards again. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Mmm…" she moans again, still half-asleep.

In the pale light, he watches as her expression clears and her eyes focus on him. She smiles and frowns at the same time, in a strangely disapproving amusement. "Guy, come back into bed."

They are words that, hitherto, he had only ever dreamed of hearing. But, once spoken, he finds himself reluctant. The letter weighs heavily on his mind and lying awake in bed had driven him to distraction. He had no desire to repeat the experience, even with Marian now at his side.

"I can't sleep," he informs her, still whispering as though there was someone else to wake up.

There is a crackle of stiff, linen sheets as Marian goes to sit up. But Guy cups the side of her face, giving her a gentle nudge back down again. "Don't disturb yourself," he urges.

She sighs, looks at him sternly as he pulls the sheets on his side of the bed back firmly. "Well, get in then."

It's an order; one he succumbs to with ease. Once he's kicked off his breeches, he slides between the sheets, shivering against the chill of his long vacated bed. One warm arm circles his hip under the sheet; she shuffles closer, holding his close.

"You're freezing," she complains, kissing the space between his shoulder blades. "Why can't you sleep?"

"Thinking about Annie," he admits. "About Seth. About … everything, really."

In the letter, Lady Glasson did not go into details. She just said that Annie was sick and like to die, leaving Seth with nothing and no one. She didn't even address the letter to Guy, instead, relying on Marian to provide an answer. Despite of everything, the snub rankled with him. Just as the fact that the people still feared him rankled. He rolls over to face Marian, in hope that she would sooth his fears and provide some insightful advice on how to be mister nice Guy.

Instead, she asks a blunt question.

"Why did you do it, Guy? He's your child."

His stomach turns at the memory.

"Because he's my child," he answers, equally blunt.

The shadows under her eyes deepen as she frowns.

"What I mean is, he is like me," he tried to articulate the thoughts in his head. He has to reach back over a space of almost two years, to relive those frantic days that now seemed to have happened in a different life time. "It was like looking at a reflection of me. Something that would grow into me. Would replicate me, over time. It didn't bear thinking about."

Unused to baring his soul, Guy's attempt at explaining the seemingly inexplicable meanders into silence. Marian holds him a little tighter, her breath warm against his bare chest. He is relieved that she hasn't pulled away from him, in horror at his complete lack of paternal instinct. On the contrary, she nuzzles so close to him he can feel her eyelashes brushing his skin whenever she blinks.

"I'm not making excuses," he adds. "I wanted to… I meant to … destroy something that could only turn into something evil."

He recalls the first time he held Seth, and the feeling of self-loathing suddenly externalised onto a small, infant version of himself that followed. Now, the feeling rebounds back onto him, two years too late.

"Do you love him?"

He answers with honesty that borders on brutality. "No."

She stiffens. "Do you think you could, if you tried?"

He sighs, flopping over onto his back. "I don't know how I feel about it all," he says to the canopy above the bed. "I don't know how to explain it all; what to do next or even if I can do anything. Let's face it, Annie won't entrust his care to me and she won't for you when she finds out we're married. Seth is no more a part of my life now than he was back then. Frankly, nor do I have the right to it."

"But you want it, don't you?" she asks. "You wouldn't be fretting all night over something you don't want."

He winces against the truth, bringing a hand to his now throbbing temple. It's only been a matter of weeks since the talk with Malcolm of Locksley; when he discovered he was not the person he had always thought himself to be. Everything changed on the turn of a hair and now, another unhappy episode from his chequered past was being cast into the mix. It is almost enough to break him. Almost.

"He's still young enough to never know what you did," says Marian. "You have the luxury of time; but that's a fleeting thing."

He goes to reply, but his thoughts carry him off elsewhere. Always complaining of having no one, he actually has a sister, a half-brother and someone as good as a step-brother. As well as his own, flesh and blood son. Now that the flesh and blood has proven itself to not be as tainted as he once believed, things have changed. He, unlike Annie, still has time to make things right.

"Robin wants us to track this brother of ours down," he says, still seeking potential obstacles. "Then there's Isabella-"

"Robin won't be back from the Holy Lands for months," she countered, truthfully. "And I'm sure Isabella will be thrilled when she hears of her nephew."

Marian has never met Isabella, so Guy lets that slide. But, Robin set off for the Holy Lands two weeks ago for an audience with the King, taking a few of his former Outlaws with him. Once there, evidence of the Sheriff's treason would be presented, spelling the end of his particular reign of terror. Eventually, they will all be free from the past.

Guy draws a deep breath, resolving himself to making a firm commitment.

"Tomorrow, then?"

Beside him, Marian smiles. "Tomorrow," she concurs.

* * *

The frown on Lady Glasson's face is short-lived, but undeniable, as she clocks the presence of Guy of Gisbourne in her solar. Swathed in black widows reeds, despite the death of her wealthy husband having occurred some twenty years previously, she reaches for a long stick at the side of her chair that Marian thought was a walking cane. She raises it to her face, and Marian notices the eye-glass on the end. Lady Glasson leans forward, still squinting at the newly magnified Guy, her sharp nose wrinkling as her mouth puckers.

"I say!" she shrilly declares. "What's he doing here? What's he here for?"

A strand of iron grey hair falls loose from the pinning beneath her coif in her agitation, the rest of her headdress shaking dangerously as she turns sharply to Marian. Her accusatory glare distorted and ferocious through the glass. Marian's gaze shifts uneasily between the elderly widow and Guy, loath to talk about him as though he's not there.

"Well…" Marian begins, struggling not to wilt under the steely eye of Lady Glasson. "Sir Guy is-"

"I'm surprised at you, My Lady," Glasson cuts her off before she can explain. "Why bring it here?"

Glasson staggers to her feet, shakes out her skirts and approaches Guy, still squinting through the eye-glass. Her boot heels clicking loudly as she stumps across the boards, she stops a nano-second before ploughing into him. Even at full height, she only reaches Guy's chest and she must direct her gaze upwards to meet his gaze. Luckily for them all, Guy is stunned into silence. He mutely looks back at her, with eyes like saucers in bewilderment.

Marian steels herself and steps forward, discreetly forming a bodily wedge before the combative Countess and her husband. "If by 'it', you mean Guy," Marian says. "I have brought him here to discuss his son's future. You may not have heard, but we are married, meaning that I now have an interest in the boy's future, just as much as Guy does. Your letter caused us great concern."

Lady Glasson continues to bounce her magnified eyes between Marian and Guy, weighing them both up carefully. After a minute, however, she draws Marian aside, stumping off toward an ante-chamber normally used by the servants. Once inside, she closes the shutters to block out her unwelcome visitor. Marian breathes a sigh of relief as privacy is finally granted them and she no longer has to talk about Guy in front of him, as one would a simpleton or child.

"The Lady cast off the burden of this life in the early hours of this morning," Lady Glasson explains, peering close to Marian's face as she had outside. Alone, the effect is even more disconcerting. "She was a fallen woman, but I have my priests say masses for her soul in Purgatory. Her time in limbo will be short, I'll see to that."

"I am sorry that we missed her," Marian replies, truthfully. She wanted Guy to face Annie, even on her death bed. "And I am grateful for the prayers for her soul. Myself and Guy will contribute, naturally, to those prayers and we'll be sure to light a candle in our private chapel." She adds, straight faced. She, herself, doubts the existence of God. Guy, she believes, was never even aware that one might have existed in the first place.

Lady Glasson releases her grip on Marian's forearm, while simultaneously lowering her eye-glass. Sadly, she turns away, towards a small, grimy casement window set in the back wall of the room. She totters towards the streaming light, the tails of her skirts rustling in the dust behind her.

"Save your prayers for that husband of yours, Lady Knighton," she snaps, gesticulating with her eye-glass stick as she comes to rest by the window. Marian is about to correct the old bird on her marital name, but thinks better of it – under the circumstances.

"Lady Glasson, I of all people know the wrongs Guy has committed in his life," she confesses. "God knows, people I know and love have been victims of the Sheriff, who acted through Guy to grind our people in the dirt. But if you knew Guy as I do, you would see what he's really like; when he's away from the Sheriff and the lies and the poison of other people. You would see him anew."

She cannot tell whether her little speech has had any effect on Glasson, she still has her back turned.

"I hear the Sheriff of Nottingham is overthrown because of Gisbourne," says Lady Glasson, reluctantly admitting that Guy appeared to have his merits. Then, she turns from the window and fixes Marian with an intense glare. "That doesn't change the fact that he abandoned the boy in the woods to die."

Marian returned her look and stood up straight. "I make no excuses, but nor does he."

"Can you ever be sure he will not do the same again?" asks Lady Glasson, stepping closer to her with the eye-glass back in place.

"No, I cannot," she answers. "But I can assure you that he has changed a great deal since that day. I am confident he will not do it again. If he does, I will take the boy myself and cast Guy off for good."

A lengthy moment of silence follows, during which the older woman drops her gaze as she mulls it all over. But Marian knows, she has no real choice. This is as good as confirmed when the old dowager speaks again. "If I was twenty years younger," she laments. "I could have put him in my own nursery, alongside my own boys."

Marian softens, lets an indulgent smile play at her lips. "In many ways that would have been the best outcome, Lady Glasson. However, Guy and I are married. We can guarantee Seth the security and nurturing he needs, for as long as he needs it – in so far as anything in this life can be guaranteed. And, I think it will be the making of Guy."

The old girl stifles a laugh. "On your head be it," she replies, finally agreeing to release Seth from her protective custody. "I'll sign his wardship only to you, Lady Marian. For what it's worth, I still think you've married a monster and I will not legally endorse that man caring for anything above a lame bitch hound."

Marian smiles as serenely as she can. 'Please, tell me what you really think,' she muses silently to herself. The truth is, however, that Lady Glasson and half the world think she's made a big mistake. She bobs the old girl a small show of deference, before rejoining Guy in the Solar.

He's leaning against the vast hearth, when she sees him again. He looks up at her as she enters, raising a rueful smile, as though he can easily second guess what that conversation had been about. Despite everything all the things he's done, the whispers still follow him wherever he goes, the past still over-shadows his every move.

"We have missed Annie," she informs him, keeping her tone soft in case of any lingering affection he still held for her. Only a brief shadow mars his features, though. A small body-blow that he quickly recovers from.

"And Seth?" he asks, standing up straight.

"His wardship has been signed over to me," she informs him, with a little more levity in her tone. She looks over her shoulder, to see where Lady Glasson has got to. "I think the Dowager Countess has gone to fetch him herself. But, we should stay for the funeral."

Guy looks as if he's caught between going in two directions at once. "Yes, of course," he concedes, run a hand nervously through his hair. "I'll gladly meet the expenses, too. It's the least I can do after …"

"Ssh!" she presses a finger to his lips. "The time for self-recriminations is over, now."

She is about to lean up on tip-toes to kiss him, when the Solar doors open and Lady Glasson returns. At her side, clasping her hand for dear life, is a small boy, barely on his feet. The silence is oppressive as the small boy looks up at Marian through piercing blue eyes, behind a mop of raven black hair. At Marian's side, Guy goes rigid and tries to turn away only to be caught between her and the hearth. To compensate for Guy's reticence, Marian drops to her haunches and holds her arms open to the boy.

"You must be Seth!" she says, kindly and warmly as she can manage. "It's been a long time since I saw you last."

The boy looks back at her, unmoving and silent. He nervously chews on the ear of a toy animal made from straw stuffed sacking material. Rather embarrassed, Marian gets up again, discreetly nudging Guy in the ribs in an effort to compel him to join in. He responds by backing up against the hearth even more. Instead, Marian turns to Lady Glasson.

"Introductions can wait; plenty of time!" she tries to brush it off with light humour. "Thank you, Lady Glasson, we'll take him now and return for Annie's funeral in the morning."

The boy shivered. Marian hadn't even thought to censor herself in front of him and the residual feeling is one of wanting to kick herself. Colour steals into her cheeks, but at the same time, Guy finally shows a sign of life. He steps around Marian and holds out a hand to the child, as though he wants to close a business deal with him.

"I-I'm your father," he splutters, doing what he always does when nervous and agitated: shouting. Marian shrinks further within herself at the inevitable effect this will have on the child.

The boy looks at the extended hand and then up to Guy. His lip curls as his face distorts and his pitiable wail fills the air. 'Wonderful,' thinks Marian, 'precisely the family reunion anyone would have wanted.' However, simultaneously, she thinks back on the words she spoke to Lady Glasson not twenty minutes before: that this would be the making of Guy. It occurs to her at that moment that she will move heaven and earth to make it happen, come what may.


	2. Dust to Dust

**Author's Note:** thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, it's much appreciated! The usual disclaimers apply; I own none of this. Thanks again for reading, and reviews would be appreciated.

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**Chapter Two: Dust to Dust**

A brisk wind sweeps the churchyard, causing the overgrown grass at the foot of ancient tombs to sway in the restless current. A handful of mourners, all swathed in black, huddle deeper into their furs and buckram cloaks as they walk a sombre quarter-mile behind the pallbearers to a freshly dug grave. The smell of the earth is rich on the breeze, the darkness of the grave makes for a stark contrast to the vivid green grass that surrounds it on all fronts. Overhead, a heavy sky lours, abundant with the promise of fresh rain. At the head of the procession, Guy of Gisbourne stands hand-in-hand with a small boy, whose other hand is firmly clasped by Marian, Lady Gisbourne. Between the two adults, the child is so small that, from a distance, he's barely more than a pin-prick on the horizon. He is silent, as though he knows that his mother is in that big, wooden box being borne on the shoulders of the men following the Priest. He simply lacks the ability to verbalise his loss.

The procession reaches its destination and the mourners fan out around the deep pit. Guy tightens his grip on the child's hand, stopping him from going any further lest he should join his mother a little too soon. But, Seth is curious and wants to see what's down there. Marian senses the imminent danger and picks him up, balancing him on her hip as the burial rites begin. Having already relinquished his grip on Seth, Guy takes a deep breath as the casket containing the body of his former lover is committed to the earth.

Love is a strong word for what existed between Annie and him. But as he watches her body sink into the cold Nottingham mud, images of their nights together, limbs entwined in his generously apportioned bed, flash into his head. He remembers the heat of their bodies, the soft sheen of sweat on her skin – gold as dripping honey in the light of the fire - as their love making reached its glorious peak. On those nights, they would lie panting and breathless, side by side as they slowly drifted back to earth. Then, he would kiss the swell of her breasts as she laced her bodices up again and returned to work. Brief moments of lust and passion, stolen during a frantic and dangerous time for everyone in Nottingham. Small, beautiful interludes in days of carnage and disarray. Until she began to swell …

No, it was not love that they shared. But it was something. And at that moment, that 'something' rekindles and flickers around his heart. Was it because Annie saw in him some of the things Marian did? He remembers well, how he used to be around Annie and a small token of love he once pressed into her palm as she departed his chambers. The only thing is, he never did see in Annie the same things he sees in Marian.

"Ashes to ashes; dust to dust…"

The Priests monotone voice forms a hum at the back of Guy's mind. Mechanically, he accepts a spade from someone nearby, who he does not turn to see. He steps over to the mound of earth and scoops some of it up, then allows it to slide into the pit and on to Annie's casket. After that, he takes a single red rose from the pocket of his buckram cloak and drops it on the coffin, its crimson petals vivid against the dirt. This, his last gesture of affection to a woman whose breasts he once kissed as she laced up her bodices, is the pale ghost of the lust they once indulged. He crosses himself just as Marian brings Seth over, so he can scatter some of the earth on his mother's coffin, too. The spade is too big for him and Guy leans down to help him carry the load.

"Mama," says Seth, as he lets the earth fall deep into the chasm of Annie's final resting place.

Guy realises that it is the first time he has heard the child speak. He looks down at him, only able to see the top of his head as he peers into the pit. That coal-black hair, so much like his own. Seth says no more. Over his head, though, Guy catches Marian's eye and their gaze locks into each other's through her fine, black muslin veil. She raises a brief smile and leads them both away, back towards their carriage waiting outside the Abbey of Kirklees. The place where Guy told Annie their son would be raised – the irony is not lost on him.

* * *

They reach Lady Glasson's home just as the first, fat drops of rain begin to drip from the skies. Guy pulls up Seth's hood and throws a protective arm around Marian's shoulders, as though the physical impact of a drop of rain could cause actual injury, and they almost break into a run. Once through the grand doors, warmth from the open fires in the Great Hall envelopes their shivering bodies and the welcoming smell of roasting beef and baking bread drifts from the nearby kitchens. Behind them, Lady Glasson shakes the early raindrops out of her skirts like a dog shaking off the river water from its fur.

"Don't wait for me!" she chimes, pointing towards the trestle tables with her walking cane. "Off you go; get warmed up and eat."

She tugs on a bell-pull, which is followed by the distant tinkling of a bell somewhere deep in the kitchens. As Guy and Marian take a seat at the second table, the first being reserved for Lady Glasson, servants begin to arrive with the first course. Marian thanks them as she helps Seth escape from his cloak. Once he's free, she lays the cloak out on the bench and sits the boy on top of it, between her and Guy.

"Guy, don't you think Seth behaved impeccably today?" asks Marian, smoothing down the back of the child's hair. Her smile is indulgent. Already, Guy senses she will be prone to spoiling the boy.

"Seth, wait for everyone else to be seated!" Guy scolds, reaching out swiftly to stop the child from pulling a chunk out of the wheaten bread. Seth jerks his head up to look at Guy, eyes shining brightly as he wonders what he did wrong, lips quivering with suppressed tears.

"Guy! He must be starving," Marian protests, shooting her husband a dark look. "He barely touched his porridge oats this morning."

Guy couldn't blame the child for that.

"I'm sorry," he relents with a deep sigh. "It's just…" his words trail off, before he eventually adds: "everything."

In act of contrition, Guy reaches for the wheaten bread himself. He breaks off small chunks of it, spreads a little butter on before drizzling honey over it. Then, he hands it to Seth, who closes his pudgy little fist around it with a bright smile on his face. In it goes, leaving a trail of crumbs adhering to his honey-stained chin. The sight of his son satisfying his hunger is something Guy finds oddly compelling.

"That's better, Guy," Marian whispers, reaching around Seth's back to give Guy's arm a squeeze. "You'll be letting him call you 'Daddy' next."

He sorts with laughter. "As long as he doesn't call me 'Sweet Cheeks', like you do in the middle of the night."

Colour steals into Marian's face as she tries to stifle the laughter. She makes the mistake of trying to do it by taking a deep draught of wine, and ends up choking on it.

As soon as the rest of the mourners are assembled, they all rise as a mark of respect for passing of Annie's soul. This moment's contemplation passes, then it's time to eat. Guy's appetite is low and he picks at his pottage and bread only half-heartedly. It's warm and filling after a morning spent out in the cold, being buffeted by glacial cemetery winds. But, as he picks at the food, he finds himself lapsing into memories once more. Those nights of love-making, and the legacy they have left behind: Seth. He has Annie's nose, and for that he will be eternally grateful.

He cannot even guess at what particular night resulted in Seth. But, he does remember each night as it happened, along with what they did. There were definitely no spontaneous fireworks, or troupes of ascending Angels bearing the message that he and Annie had hit the jackpot. Seth simply, discreetly took hold and clung on tight to life. A flicker of an existence that eventually ignited into a night of molten agony, during which Annie interspersed her prayers with fluid profanity as she pushed and shoved their son into the world. Their son. Guy's as much as Annie's. Prior to this day of mourning and reflection, Guy had thought to raise Seth to believe that Marian is his mother. Now, he knows he cannot do that. He cannot expunge Annie from his History, as though she had never existed at all. Seth must know his mother and on that, Guy is resolved.

Before they move on to the main course of roast beef and venison, they raise a toast to the dearly departed, led by Guy himself. He ignores the dark looks from Lady Glasson, and ploughs through the ritual required of him. But, the sooner he's back at Nottingham Castle, the happier he will be. To put a brave face on things, he jabs his knife into the venison and forces a few bites down his throat.

* * *

Night settles quickly, as though the day itself wants its own existence to be over as soon as possible. Marian closes the shutters over the casement windows and wonders where Guy has got to. But then, she hears his voice drifting in from the room next door, where Seth has been put to bed in a temporary cradle that he barely fits. To pass the time until Guy's return, she stokes the fire and lights some more candles that Lady Glasson kindly granted them. Once done, she sits in a chair by the fire, wrapped in a fur lined gown. Winter has approached with the stealth of a panther.

However, when she tries to continue reading, her thoughts drift to Guy. He had brooded his way through dinner, lost in private thoughts and recollections. It seems odd to her that he should mourn for Annie. It has never occurred to her that he ever harboured feelings for anyone but her. Inwardly, Marian scolds herself. She knows she's being irrational and that Guy and Annie felt strongly enough about each other to go coupling an indeterminate number of times. Enough to make a baby. But she cannot deny the flicker of jealousy, because he has spurned her company to grieve for a woman she honestly thought he had only used for sex.

He returns, looking relieved and satisfied, however. So, Marian forces herself to be cheerful.

"You look better, Guy."

He smiles. "Governess sorted," he tells her, closing the door behind him as he enters. "One of the women here looked after Lady Glasson's boys when they were children. Glasson has given me a glowing reference for her, so I've hired her."

She gets up to give him a hug. "Excellent news," she beams. "When can she begin?"

"She'll start as soon as we get back to the Castle," he answers. "Her name's Mary. I think you'll like her."

"I'm sure I will," she concurs, punctuating each word with a kiss.

Silence falls, during which they look at each other before leaning in for a kiss. Guy reaches up with one hand, to undo the clasp at the back of her gown. Marian lets him, shrugs her shoulders free from her cloak and gown before reaching for his belt. She lets the tips of her fingers trail over his behind as she unloops it, sneaking a finger down the waistband of his breeches. He lifts her up and Marian responds by throwing her arms around his neck, nuzzling kisses against his broad shoulders. They have barely had a moment to themselves since the wedding and, even before that, their time was occupied with establishing her as the new Sheriff and planning their next moves. Intimacy had been a scarce commodity, until now.

A thrill of excitement courses through her body as Guy drops her on the bed and she bounces on the feather mattress. He strips off his shirt and jumps up to join her, kneeling above her, straddling her thighs with his own. He smirks like a cat with a bowl of cream as he works her chemise open, bearing the flesh at her throat and chest.

"You look beautiful," he whispers, lowering himself slowly downwards.

She smiles as she drinks him in, not caring to disguise her lust as she caresses his chest; running her fingertips over smooth, flawless skin. She feels her breath become ragged, her desires stirring as loses herself in his gaze. Half in shadow, his exposed skin exquisite to look at.

Marian lifts her gaze, looking up at him imploringly. "I need you," she breathes.

"I want you," he speaks like a confession as he covers her mouth with his own, kissing passionately as they shed the last of their clothes.

"Now, Guy, NOW!" she's almost begging him to take her and he obliges.

Their love making is urgent as they abandon themselves to their needs. Guy enters her, careful lest he should hurt her as she's still so inexperienced. But, as soon as he's in and they begin to rock with each other, a small voice calls out from the doorway.

"Papa!"

They both freeze, struck with horror. Luckily, Guy's wits are about him and he drags a bed sheet free and rolls it over his back and he uses his own body to shield Marian's nakedness from innocent eyes. He pokes his head around the sturdy bedpost and sees his desolate looking son leaning against the doorway, his stuffed animal hanging limp from one hand. Seth, in return looks back at them quizzically.

"Guy!" Marian frantically whispers.

"I'm sorry, he was asleep when I left him!" he whispers, looking disconsolately back at her. He turns again to Seth. "Er, Seth, go and wait outside for a second, there's a good boy."

Marian sinks back against the pillows, cursing the child's timing with enthusiasm. Only now does she see the logistical problems of parenthood. She tries to smile at her new step-son, but soon gives up seeing as it's her first time.

"That was close," he sighs, once Seth's footsteps have retreated back to his little bedroom. "Who's idea was it to get an adjoining room, anyway?"

Marian grinned. "When Mary starts working for us, make sure it's she who has the connecting chamber and not us!"

Resigned to a frustrated night, they each pull on their night clothes as if driving the final nail in the coffin of their romantic mood. By the time Guy returns with Seth on his hip, all Marian really wishes to do is go to sleep. But, she shuffles over to make room for the boy in their bed.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

"It's alright, Guy, honestly," she replies. "There'll be plenty of other times."

While Seth is settling into the parental bed, Marian gets up to help Guy tuck him in for the night. Within minutes, he is asleep, breathing softly while sucking his thumb.

"It's only for one night," he says, still justifying his actions. "Just until he gets used to not having his mother around."

"I understand," Marian insists.

For the moment, both Guy and Marian give up on the idea of sleep and move to sit by the fire. Guy pours them each a goblet of wine, a sorry compensation for what they should be doing.

"Did you love Annie?" Marian asks, looking into the flames.

"No," he answers, truthfully.

He looks over at her, wondering what brought that on. But, she does not elaborate.

"I did enjoy our time together though," he adds. "She made me happy. I think I made her happy, at least at the start, before Seth was conceived."

"You've been in such a strange mood," she said. "So distant and uncommunicative. I've never seen you like that before."

He sets down his goblet and crosses over to sit on the arm of her chair. "I knew her well and today I buried her," he said, removing her goblet too, so they could kiss again. "It's just been a long, tiring and unhappy day. I'll be better once we're home."

They both look over at Seth, who sleeps on oblivious to them both. Sensing that it is safe to do so, they cuddle up as best they can in that one chair and kiss each other again. Tomorrow, they both know, they can try again.


	3. Running Up That Hill

**Author's Note:** thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, your feedback means a lot. Thank you. The usual disclaimers apply and I own none of this.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Walking Away**

Overhead, the sky is blue and clear for the first time since Annie's funeral, finally permitting the journey home. Hours after setting off, Nottingham Castle looms into view as they crest the hill into the village of Locksley. Guy tightens his grip on the reigns of his horse, mindful of the villagers crossing the narrow dirt tracks down which he and Marian travel. In front of Guy, in the saddle of his horse, carefully barricaded in place by his arms, is Seth, enjoying his first horse ride. At first, he was nervous, but at that moment he is babbling happily and curling his fist through tufts of the horse's mane. Occasionally, Guy has to take both reins in one hand and use the other, free hand, to gently pull Seth back into place before he leans too far to one side and falls off. Never having been up so high, the whole experience is a thrill for the child.

Marian glances over at them, beaming from ear to ear.

"Give him the reins, I dare you," she challenges.

At soon as she says it, a post horse charges past them, the riders cloak billowing out behind him in the slipstream. Within minutes, he is just a blur on the distant horizon. But Seth is pointing, shrieking excitedly as the post rider's dust cloud clears.

Guy looks sidelong at Marian.

"Perhaps not," he replied.

She laughs, reaching over to them from atop her own horse.

"You'll have to wait a while before you can ride like that, little man," she tells her step-son, ruffling his hair.

"Grrr!" the child growls back at her, scrunching his little face up as he cranes to see her over Guy's protective arm.

"He's speaking dog language again," Guy sighs, giving his laughing wife an apologetic look.

Since the fall of the old Sheriff, security surrounding the Castle has been scaled down. They want the people to pass freely through the fortress with minimal interference to drive up visitors to the daily market. The revenue from the market helps fund local building projects and amenities, without raising public taxes. Farmer's wives set up stalls to sell their husband's crops and fleeces. Already, word about Nottingham's market is spreading further afield, bringing commerce in from surrounding towns. Merchants from Stoke, Kirkby and Gotham come whenever specialist fleece fairs are held. Still early days, the results have still been impressive.

However, despite the fact that Guy has been the brains behind many of the new capital raising schemes, the people have not forgotten what he did. As he passes under the portcullis, he can feel their dark looks boring into his back. Whispers follow him as he passes through the streets. People openly speculate about what it is, exactly, Marian sees in him. One rumour is that he married her at the point of a sword. Another, that he has a coven of witches in the dungeons of the Castle, working all through the day and night to brew up potent love potions with which he drugs her regularly. One local idiot even claims to have seen them first hand, while he was incarcerated for petty thieving. Marian's personal favourite story is that she is actually dead, revived by a powerful necromancer and living an undead half-life as Guy's wife. Like her, Guy has tried to see the funny side, but the constant suspicion and the fearful looks are a constant reminder of the man he once was. When they see him with the child, they look positively alarmed.

"Guy," Marian's voice cuts across his ruminations. "Guy, look, it's the post horse rider. He's waiting by the Castle steps."

He follows Marian's line of vision, noticing the rider – dismounted now – holding a document with an official looking, weighty seal attached. Frowning, he keeps the man in his sight until they reach the stables and stiffly dismount their horses. Seth slides off the horses back and into Guy's open arms. With the boy balanced on his hip and his free arm linked with Marian's, they approach the man in growing curiosity.

"Sir Guy, Lady Marian," he greets them both, still looking rough and dishevelled from a long journey across the dusty roads. "A message has been relayed from the Holy Lands, from Robin of Locksley."

Guy and Marian exchange a look, before he nods to her to accept the letter and tip the messenger. With a sharp crack, the seal breaks and the parchment unfurls in her gloved hands. He watches her reading, her frown deepening before she smiles again and sags with relief.

"Robin has spoken with the King and handed over the pact of Nottingham," she informs him, looking up with a radiant smile. "My appointment as Sheriff has been formally approved. You are officially pardoned, but one foot out of line and you will hang. The Sheriff is to go on trial at the earliest convenience."

Once she finishes reading, she rushes up to him and throws her arms around both he and Seth. Despite the dark warning connected to his pardon, Guy is immensely relieved and returns her hug, one armed but enthusiastically. This Royal Proclamation had been a Damocles Sword hanging over them, but with it banished for good, the future, the way ahead, seems clear and easier.

* * *

Not since him, Marian and Allan A Dale had rescued Sir Edward had Guy been down to the Castle Dungeons. He approaches cautiously, nodding at one of the Guards by way of greeting as he descends the steps that lead ever downwards. It is still dark, dank and miserable, with the foetid stench of rotting meat, over-flowing privies and unwashed bodies that cram behind the metal bars of each cage. Stony faced guards, with stomachs of iron, pace rhythmically across the dirty flagstones, impervious to the squalor that surrounds them on every front.

Guy follows the passageway round a bend, down another corridor and takes a sharp left. At the end of this corridor is one cell, set apart from all the others. Behind him, the master gaoler follows with the keys jangling noisily at his belt. It is a sound that makes the gimlet eyed prisoners fraught with fear. They pause at the door, the gaoler lowering the spy-hole and peering inside.

"He's asleep," he remarks, turning briefly to look at Guy. "You sure about this?"

Guy draws a deep breath, steeling himself for what lies ahead. "Ready as I'll ever be," he replies, not quite keeping the raw nerves from the tone of his voice. "Keep a Guard outside his door for the whole time I'm in there."

Even with the guards for back-up, Guy reaches for the sword sheathed at his side, clutching the handle for reassurance as the door to the cell swings open, revealing Vaisey lying on a straw pallet. Guy nods to the gaoler to close the cell door after him and steps inside.

The fallen Sheriff does not stir, but Guy can see that he's awake. For a moment, he looks down at his former master, perplexed at the hold Vaisey once had over him. Whatever it was, it was once enough to compel him to kill. Now, he is a shell of a man and, despite everything, Guy almost feels sorry for him. Lying broken in a dirty cell, forgotten by everyone except the people who're preparing his death warrant, before his trial has even begun. His days really are numbered now.

"Get up," Guy commands, giving Vaisey a sharp nudge with the toe of his boot. "Get up now."

Vaisey smiles, revealing his missing canine tooth, but remains lying on the pallet bed. Flat on his back, Guy can see how much weight he's lost. It is not a complimentary weight loss, though. His paunch has gone, leaving wrinkled, sagging skin at his belly. Guy ends up throwing a nearby, threadbare cloak over him to preserve some small dignity buried away in his soul. That, and because it looks awful. The cloak doesn't cover the scrubby beard that now sprouts fulsomely from his face, as if compensating for the fact that what was left of his hair has now completely fallen out.

Vaisey doesn't move, but chuckles deep within his throat, a low rumble of a laugh.

"Come to kill me, have you?" he asks, without opening his eyes.

Guy distracts himself from the shell of a man in front of him and moves towards the back wall, watching from a distance.

"Why bother?" he asks in response. "You've as good as done that yourself."

"Then why are you here, Gisbourne?"

"To see if I could muster even a shred of pity for you," he answers flatly. "And to inform you of the latest developments. Your trial is set for two weeks today. The King has seen the Pact of Nottingham. You know what that means."

"Yes, yes I do!" replies Vaisey, sounding manically joyful. "It means you're going to swing alongside me, if there's any real justice left in this world."

Guy almost laughs at Vaisey's pitiful attempt to muster his old sardonic, acerbic wit.

"Not quite," he replies. "I have been granted a royal pardon, seeing as I was only acting under your orders."

Finally, Vaisey opens his eyes and sits up. He fixes Guy with a hard look, one that would previously have frozen the blood in his veins. Only now, he is impervious to it. The hold has gone; the spell broken. Perhaps, he thinks, the Sheriff once had a coven of witches brewing potions to keep him under control. He thinks to start the rumour himself; give the gossips something else to strengthen their gums on.

"I always knew you'd be too weak to kill me yourself," Vaisey muses, almost to himself.

Guy smirks. "No, I'm strong enough to walk away. There is a difference."

Vaisey rolls his dull eyes. "Oh, la-di-da! Been spending too much time with that Lady Leper wife of yours."

Guy still feels nothing. It's like he's been shut in a small space with a lion after its claws and teeth have been pulled out. All it can do is roar and the roar of a lion never killed anybody. It just made a lot of meaningless noise.

"All this time on your own, Vaisey, and you can't even think of any fresh insults," he sighed deeply, deciding that he has seen enough for one day. However, he pauses by the door and looks one last time at the ex-Sheriff. "I know the truth, now. About everything. About the fire. About how Malcolm of Locksley bribed you to keep silent. You will never cross my mind again."

With that, Guy wrenches open the heavy steel door and strides outside into the dark corridor. As he goes, he hears Vaisey's furious bellowing echoing down the stone passageway.

"Oh I know as well! How's that whelp of yours? How's the baby? I would watch him carefully, if I were you, Gisbourne! And the leper bitch, Marian! Watch them all!"

This furious diatribe is punctuated with the muffled thumps of the Sheriff hauling his body into the door, kicking it and lashing out in fury. He was always prone to violent temper tantrums, like a toddler that never grew up. Seth is just the same, when he doesn't get his favourite marchpane confectionaries for breakfast, dinner and tea.

* * *

The hours draw on, but Guy and Marian sit in the Great Hall, at the top table and sort through paperwork. They sort eyewitness testimonies of the fallen Sheriff's mistreatment of others into one pile, whereas first-hand accounts from actual victims are stacked in another. On almost every page, Guy sees his own name mentioned in connection to the Sheriff, feels the colour rising in his face for shame.

Marian turns to him, red eyed from tiredness. "They'll redact your name for the trial, Guy," she informs him, keeping her tone gentle.

"No," he says, stacking one more victim statement on the relevant pile. "Let them name me in Court. Maybe it will make them feel better, bring them a sense of finality, at last."

Marian watched him, still working away at the statements – hundreds in total, at least – and gathers her thoughts carefully. "There's going to come a point where you must stop punishing yourself," she says, covering his hand with her own to still him.

"But I'm not, Marian, don't you see? If I let them say those things about me – which is only the truth, after all – and I don't take revenge, they'll see that I've changed. That I want to be a better person."

"There are plenty of other ways to show them you've changed, without having your dirty linens aired in public," she counters, a lot more firmly. "Your name will be redacted from these statements; I will see to it myself. The Sheriff has spoken."

Marian kisses his cheek, tucks a loose lock of hair behind his ear and returns to her work; still she wonders what's going on in his head. Ever since he got his pardon, he has been strangely subdued and morose. He insisted on going to see the Sheriff in person, as though rubbing his own nose in his own messes. He forces himself to endure the gossips and rumour mongers, as if wilfully exposing himself to slanders and calumnies were going to somehow show the people how tolerant he is. The reality is, and Marian well knows it, he will just become a laughing stock. Despite all that he did in the past, he deserves better than that.

She sighs, wonders how best to broach the subject.

"Did you see Vaisey, today?" she asks, continuing to peruse the statement in her hands.

"Yes," he answers.

She waits for him to continue, but he does not.

"Are you going to tell me what's troubling you?"

"Nothing."

She waits for a moment, making it seem as if she isn't really nagging. For greater effect, she even gathers up a few papers, pretending to get back to work. However, the frosty edge to her silence compels him to give in.

"The Sheriff-" will he ever get out of the habit of calling Vaisey that? –"I mean, Vaisey, said something to me today, as I left the dungeon."

Marian gives up the pretence of work and looks at him. "What?"

He draws a deep breath. "He told me to watch Seth and you carefully," he answers.

"How does he know about Seth?" she retorts, aghast. "He wasn't even supposed to know about the wedding. Regardless, pay no heed. The angry rhetoric of an angry little man who's lost everything. Where is Seth?"

"Asleep in bed. Mary is with him."

"Then don't worry, nothing will happen."

The guards must have talked among themselves. It's the only way that Marian can think of for the old Sheriff to have gotten such personal information about Guy. However, she wants to take his mind off things, give him something to look forward to once all this is over and, accordingly, her mind begins to race.


	4. The Threatening

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, especially my Guest reviewers who I cannot thank in person. Your input is highly appreciated. The usual disclaimers apply and I own none of this. Thank you again.

* * *

**Chapter Four: The Threatening **

Marian presses her ear to the nursery door, listening for signs of life from within. The Guards are gone; the passageway outside deserted. Concerned, she knocks on the door before letting herself in without waiting for a reply. Seth's cot is empty, his clean clothes and terry cloths folded neatly on the dresser. A stuffed toy, roughly shaped like a cat, that Seth normally takes everywhere with him, is sticking out of a half-closed drawer. Marian reaches inside and picks it up, pressing it to her lips as though the feel of it holds some clue as to its owner's whereabouts. Behind the toy is a drinks flask. By the looks of it, there's a little more than just milk inside.

The windows are open, to clear the air of soot from the newly swept hearth. A scuffle comes from behind the door of a nearby ante-chamber, where Seth's laundry and hygiene is normally taken care of. Marian takes a closer look, walking slowly towards the door.

"Mary," she calls, cautiously easing the door open. "Mary, are you in here?"

She sees the new Nanny sat on a low stool, leaning over a barrel and scrubbing at some linens. Her hands are red, swollen and raw from the caustic cleansers and hot, steaming water. Her face, prematurely aging, is bent to her task, seemingly unaware of Marian's intrusion, as she mutters to herself.

"Mary!" Marian calls a little louder.

Finally, the Nanny drops the linen back in its tub with a splash as she jerks her head up to see Marian. "My Lady, you frightened me!" she exclaims, hurriedly getting to her feet.

"It's alright, Mary," Marian assures her, closing the gap between them. "You know, we have servants to do that. You just look after Seth while his father and I are busy."

As Marian reaches down to lift the linens out of the tub to hang them up, Mary reacts swiftly. Her hand closes over Marian's wrist, making her drop them again in surprise. "They're not done yet," she insists. "Let me do it."

She can see the stains, a washed out red. Shocked, Marian extricates her wrist and rubs the spot where Mary's nails dug into her skin. "Mary, is that blood?" she asks, nodding towards the washing. "Where did it come from? Where's Seth?"

She remembers putting his favourite toy back where she found it, not five minutes ago. Seth would never go anywhere without it; he couldn't even sleep without it. Guy even leaves it by the pillow of his cot every night at bedtime, where the child can reach it. It is never packed away.

"He's gone with the Master," Mary replies, taking up her scrubbing brush again.

"Where?" she presses.

Mary's brow creases, thinking hard. "He said something about meeting potential Tutors."

Guy had said nothing to her about Tutors that morning, but it is the stains that are causing her the greatest concern at that moment. Mary singularly failed to answer that particular question.

"I asked if that was blood on the linen?" she repeats, becoming more insistent.

Mary smiled. "The boy fell; he scraped his knee on the flagstones, that's all."

Marian tries to rationalise it. Seth is a toddler, still learning to be steady on his feet and prone to accidents as a result. She tries to read no more into the situation than that. However, misgivings, suspicions breeding, magnify in her mind.

"Well, I just came to inform you that we're hosting a fair to celebrate the removal of the old Sheriff and my appointment as his replacement. I need you to arrange suitable new clothes for Seth, if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course not," Mary replies, hands back in the washing.

Relieved that the conversation is over, Marian backs out of the ante-chamber. As she passes through Seth's nursery, she replaces his toy in his cot so that it at least will be waiting for him upon his return.

Once back in the Great Hall, Marian calls for her Ladies Maid, Sarah, who has been over-seeing preparations for the Fair. So far, they have nets for stalls; musicians and story-tellers hired for entertainments and competitions for archery and crafts. Even the Great Hall is being used to store decorations that will soon adorn the streets of every village beyond the Castle walls. The whole place is a riot of activity and colour, from which Sarah emerges with silk threads caught up in her dark hair and loose ribbons trailing from her shoes. She tidies herself down hurriedly as she jogs up to Marian.

"Did you find Sir Guy?" she asks, breathless from her exertions.

Marian links her arm through Sarah's and steers her outside, where they can talk privately. Outside the double doors, Guy's favourite hunting falcon sits hooded and shackled to its perch, but other than that, they are mercifully alone but for the distant passing of the workmen, busy building the fairground attractions in the forecourt. Their shouts and cat-calls fill the air at intervals, rising above the constant hammering and sawing.

"Guy's out, according to Mary," Marian explains, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder. "Listen, I don't like her. She was scrubbing the linens herself, and there was blood stains on them. She had stuffed Seth's favourite toy in a drawer, where he won't be able to reach it. What do you make of that?"

For a moment, Sarah makes no reply. But her gaze drops, she takes a deep breath and tries to remain diplomatic. "Seth's a toddler, turn your back for five minutes and they have all sorts of bumps and scrapes-"

"That's what I tried to tell myself-"

"Because it's true, My Lady!" Sarah cut in.

"No, listen. She tried to stop me from seeing it," Marian presses on determinedly. "I mean, she grabbed hold of my arm and, pretty much, pushed me away. She really did not want me to see it, then when I asked her about it she ignored the question. And what do you make of the toy? Seth can't sleep without it."

Sarah opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again almost instantly as if she has a change of heart. But, it's too late. Marian sees it. "What?" she asks.

"It's probably nothing," Sarah replies, flushing slightly. "I heard some of the servants talking, and that's probably all it was: servants talk-"

"But, what was it?" Marian cuts in, impatient to get to the truth.

"I shouldn't be saying, and I certainly am not judging Mary. But, a chamber maid found her, one morning, out cold with a bottle in her hands while Seth was wide awake in his cot and crying."

"Sarah, if Seth is in danger, then you must tell us!" Marian retorts, aghast at what she is hearing. "Who was it? Guy and I must speak with her? There will be no anger or reprisals against her."

"It was little Lottie Hatherly," replies Sarah, still blushing deeply. "But she's young, she might be exaggerating and I don't want anyone to lose their position on the back of servant's tittle-tattle."

"Honestly, Sarah, Guy and myself will carry out a full investigation, I promise," Marian assures her. "If Mary loses her position, it will be on the back of hard evidence."

The colour in Sarah's face finally lessens, her smile returns slowly. But she still looks far from happy. She turns her face towards the construction areas, readying themselves for the upcoming fair. Marian gives a gentle, friendly nudge and suggests an impromptu inspection to take their minds off things. Together, they dismount the steps of the Castle, setting off across the forecourt to see what new attractions had sprung up since their last look around. However, high above their heads a window is flung open and a woman's piercing scream sounds from high above, from Guy's private chambers: "Murder!" she shrieks, desperately. "Murder!"

For a moment, no one registers what she's screaming but all eyes turn to her and the building sites fall silent. Marian and Sarah look to one another, silently understanding, before turning and sprinting back inside the Castle.

* * *

Guy ignores the usual stares and whispers, as he passes through the village on his way back to the Castle. His own horse, a giant of a destrier, obediently plods along behind him as he leads a tiny Shetland pony by the bridle. He smirks at it, imagining already the look on Seth's face when he's presented with his first ever horse. Its fur is white, with tawny patches over the nose and back. Large black eyes peer out from beneath long lashes, almost lost among the tufts of brown mane that hangs almost down the ends of the pony's nose.

The weather has improved enough for him to have ditched the heavy over-coat and, in all the surrounding fields, bumper crops are in the midst of being harvested. The approaching winter looks set to be mild, and made even smoother through swelling food supplies. He assumes that it would be enough to appease even the most ardent of his detractors. However, at the back of his mind, he also knows that he would be wrong about that.

"I suppose you think this makes everything alright, don't you?"

Guy, sensing that the shrieking is directed at him, stops in his tracks as he is about to begin the last hundred yards to the Castle gates. Slowly, he turns round to face his latest detractor from between the two horses. He sighs deeply, bracing himself for more of the same as a young woman with her blonde hair loose about her shoulders comes marching furiously towards him, trampling the golden wheat as she goes. The anger glinting in her blue eyes is unmistakable. A few of her colleagues try to stop her, only to be violently rebuffed as she shakes them off, empowered by her own rage.

"He's not worth it, Kate!" one of them calls after her.

Others, however, set down their tools and lean against their carts, eager for the showdown to begin. All toothless, gormless smiles, waist deep in the uncut crops. Guy resolves himself to not giving them a single iota of satisfaction.

"Who did you steal that off then, Gisbourne?" Kate demands, jabbing an accusatory finger at the Shetland.

He decides not to dignify the accusation with an answer. Nor does he walk away, or give rise to accusations of cowardice. Especially in front of a chit of a girl.

"Do you always make a scene in front of passing strangers, or are you just making a special exception for me?" he asks, looking her straight in the eye.

"You don't frighten me, Gisborne!"

"I'm not trying to," he counters, keeping his tone firmly in check. "In fact, I was minding my own business, passing along this track to the Castle-"

"Don't give me that," the girl thunders over him. "I saw you looking. At us. Thinking of ways to steal our crops, no doubt. You haven't changed; you never will."

The corner of his mouth twitches into a grin. "Whether I change or not is immaterial," he says, sounding more resigned than anything else. "More so, in light of the fact that even if I do, no one else let me show it."

"Answer the question, have you paid for that horse or have you requisitioned it off some poor, defenceless victim?" Kate took a step closer to him, her eyes narrowed and hawk-like as she slowly bore down on him.

"Not that it's any of your business, but it's a gift for my son. Of course I paid for it," he disdainfully retorts.

Seeing no further use in continuing the discussion, Guy turns back to the road ahead and continues the last leg of his journey. As far as he's concerned, he's given the disgruntled tenant a chance to vent her fury but there's no reason he should continue to act as the Sheriff's whipping boy any longer. But as he goes, the ever-angry Kate follows him. He pretends he does not notice her footfalls matching his own.

"Your son? Don't make me laugh. You don't deserve a son; he'll grow up knowing what you did, Guy of Gisbourne. Then what'll he make of you? He'll know you for the killer you are!" she rants at him. "With a bit of luck, someone will get him as far away from you as possible. Perhaps, then, he might have a chance in life!"

He makes it another few feet down the road before he must stop and count to ten; closing his eyes as he does so, in an attempt to make the girl vanish. He reaches ten and opens his eyes again, before turning to face her one last time.

"Listen, sweet heart, just think of all those people I killed," he said, taking a step closer to her. "Think of them all, and now count yourself extremely lucky that I'm only telling you to shut the fuck up and get the fuck out of my face, right now." Feeling much better already, a big grin spreads across his face as the girl seethes in the juices of her own insulted, broiling emotions.

Now that their merry introduction really has reached its conclusion, Guy walks away again, leaving the girl to slink away from whence she so suddenly sprang. With a bit of luck, he will never have to lay eyes on her again. He does glance over his shoulder, but by that time, she has already returned to the fold of her family who form a protective huddle around her.

When he looks back to the road ahead, a black clad rider sets out from the Castle gates, riding at speed towards him. As he gets closer, Guy recognises Allan A Dale and breathes a sigh of relief. Allan catches sight of Guy and slows by yanking on the reigns of his horse. Before the animal has even stopped properly, Allan leaps down from the saddle, landing deftly and catching his balance with his spurs.

"Guy, Marian's been searching everywhere for you," he says, looking worried.

"Why, what's happened?" he asks, preparing to mount his destrier and have the Shetland run along behind them. "I left a message with my Valet, didn't she get it?"

Allan shrugged. "I doubt it, Guy. Oz has been murdered."

The shock hit Guy like a blow to the head with a tree trunk. Oswald had been one of George's men; among the first to join their side during the battle for Nottingham Castle. Naturally, Guy had awarded him with a position of high esteem in his household. Oswald was also a man more than capable of looking after himself in a fight.

Allan mounts his horse again, looking even more pale and ashen than before.

"Guy, Marian said that you would have Seth with you," he says. "Where is he?"

"No, he's with his Nanny, thank goodness," he replies, getting on the destrier. "Jesus, what am I going to do with that?" he asks, looking at the Shetland, far too tiny to keep up with their war horses.

Allan, however, doesn't have a thought for the disadvantages of the Shetland breed. He shakes his head at Guy, horror-struck and lost for words. "Guy, just get back to the Castle, now."

Without wasting time probing for more answers, Guy does as he's told and makes a gallop for the Castle with a shouted order for Allan to bring Seth's horse with him. He doesn't stop until he's reached the stables, where he dismounts and throws the reigns to a stable hand without hanging around. From all around him, worried glances are cast, but he only sees Marian, waiting at the top of the Castle steps.

Pale and anxious, her gaze fixes on him for a second before she runs into his arms.

"Oh, thank god you're back," she gasps, hugging him close.

"Allan told me about the murder. Where's Seth?" he asks.

Marian pulls back, looking at him in fear. "You told Mary you had taken him to see Tutors."

Guy shakes his head. "I went to buy a pony for him. I haven't even seen Mary today. Are you telling me he's not with her?"

In response, Marian shakes her head. "I checked hours ago. She told me that you took him, like I said… Christ, Guy, where is he?"

His stomach churns painfully as the realisation of what's happening hits him. He's shaking and sweating with fear, but cold. So very cold, as they walk numbly into the Castle to alert the guards. Marian orders the immediate arrest of the Nanny, while every other guard and Castle inhabitant is ordered to begin a thorough search of the whole fortress. From the kitchen hands, to the Grooms and Body Servants, all down their tools and join the search for the missing child, while Marian takes a moment to fully inform Guy of all the details.

"She was washing blood from the linens," she explains, tears leaking down her face, trembling with anger at herself. "I believed her because he's only a baby, still."

"It was plausible, Marian," he assures her, back at their chambers. He tucks the loose hair behind her ears, tilting her chin up so they're looking each other in the eye. "If I had been in your position, I would not have questioned it, either."

She shrugs him off. "There were only spots. It wasn't like she was covered in the stuff. But there were definite spots. But, it-"

She stops herself, unable to verbalise the thoughts that are in both of their heads. It would be easy to kill a child as small as Seth and not get covered in incriminating blood. But Mary alone could not have killed Oswald, and with no body for Seth they still had hope for finding him alive. Guy pulled Marian back over to him and wiped away her tears, despite fighting a losing battle against his own.

"Marian, we will rejoin the search party," he says, voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "We won't stop until we find him. Alright? Seth is alive and lost; we need to find him."

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, then holds her head up high. The first sign of a Marian fight-back. "Yes," she replies, firmly. "It'll be alright. We'll find him."

'And we'll never let him go again,' Guy thinks, silently to himself.

They each take a flaming torch from the sconces outside their chamber doors, and they each choose a different direction to take as they renew their search. A task they undertake with fortified resolve, even as the hours draw on.


	5. A Clue?

**Author's Note:** thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, your comments mean a lot. The usual disclaimers apply: I own none of this. Thank you again for reading; reviews would be most welcome!

* * *

**Chapter Five: A Clue**

All conversation in the tavern ceased abruptly as the door closed behind Kate. She paused on the threshold of the Old Trip to Jerusalem Inn as all faces suddenly turned towards her. For a long moment, she looked back at them, wondering whether she had sprouted an extra head. They certainly gave her peculiar enough looks. Bewildered by the sudden rush of attention, she glanced around, waiting for someone to say something, to enlighten her as to what was going on. When no one volunteered, she approached the bar, flushing deeply as all eyes trailed her progress.

The serving girl, who had paused midway through polishing a pewter tankard, carried on staring at her.

"Er, a quart of mead, if you will please, Molly," said Kate, faltering under the increased scrutiny.

Finally, however, someone else broke the silence. Adam, the farmer's son who Kate was helping earlier in the day, spoke up from his place at the bar.

"I'm surprised to see you showing your face in here, Kate," he said, glowering at her mutinously.

Taken aback, her expression darkened as she turned to face him. "Excuse me," she retorted. "Have I done something to offend you?"

She had come to the tavern for a well-earned drink, after a long day helping these very same people bring in a bumper harvest. To be treated like a pariah for reasons unknown to her was galling in the extreme.

"You know very well what you've done."

This time, it was the farmer's wife, Maude, who spoke up from behind her son. She stepped around Adam, making herself visible to Kate, where she stood with her arms folded across her broad chest. Increasingly perplexed, Kate's mind raced. Any minute, they'll be asking her to step outside, and they still hadn't enlightened her to supposed crime.

Remembering all the work she had done that day, Kate's patience snapped under a surge of indignation.

"Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me, Maude?" she shot back, turning to face her detractors.

"We all heard you today, threatening the Gisbourne boy," Maude rounded on her. "Now the bairn's gone. A bit coincidental, isn't it?"

"What?" Kate could scarcely believe what she was hearing. "You don't seriously believe I could hurt a child? I never could; not even Gisbourne's. You all know me better than that-"

"You said, you'd snatch that child and get him as far away from Gisbourne as possible," Adam cut in, defending his mother and running his mouth at the same time. "You said it'd be a kindness. We heard you, Kate. You were like a woman possessed."

Kate burned in anger at the way her words were being twisted. They all saw her, that bit was true. They also egged her on and roundly applauded her, after the event. How could she have known that something dreadful would happen to the child? If she had any strength left in her, she would have been out there searching for him.

"No, actually, what I said was: someone should take the child as far away as possible. I didn't say that I, personally, would do it. Nor was I being in the least bit serious," she paused there, giving herself a moment to draw breath and organise her racing thoughts. "It was wrong of me to harangue Gisbourne like that. I hold my hand up and admit that. But, if I recall rightly, you were cheering me on at the time. And, with God as my witness, I said no more than what everybody else was thinking."

A few of the others formed a half-circle around her, shuffling slowly to block the exits. Already, she was tried and found guilty by the same people she had been working alongside, not two or three hours ago. From the corner of her eye, she saw Maude the farmer's wife reaching for something she didn't like the look of.

"An innocent child! We should hand her over now," someone said. "There'll be a handsome reward, I'll bet."

Kate laughed drily. "Oh no you won't," she cut in, looking back at them in defiance. "I'll hand myself in, right now."

With that, she bolted for the exit before they could block it, the same way she had come in. She knew she had nothing to hide, but plenty of explaining to do, she strode purposefully toward the Castle. Out from under their glare, tears welled in her eyes, burning in the cold night air. She hadn't realised it in the heat of the moment, but she was also shaking. She knew full well people could turn, but she hadn't expected it be quite so frightening. They had formed a mob, with pitchforks at the ready. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure she wasn't being followed and picked up her pace, just to be safe.

* * *

The nanny rocked on the stool she was sat on. Her face was buried in her hands, tears seeping from between her fingers as the prison guards stood over her. Marian watched the scene from the corner of the cell, where she and Guy tried to wring some sense from her story. So far, it had been hopeless. They had the blood stained garment Marian had seen her washing. It was a female's adult pinafore, not a baby's item. However, the interrogators were making things worse, sending Mary into paroxysms of tears and rocking.

After ten more fruitless minutes, Marian finally dismissed the Guards and the man Guy had tasked with heading up the search. When it was just the three of them: Guy, Mary and Marian; they produced the pinafore again. Marian knelt before Mary, showing her the garment with the faded blood stains on show.

"You have nothing to fear, Mary," she said, trying to cajole her. "Just tell us the truth. How did this happen?"

She glanced over her shoulder at Guy, who nodded his approval. In the light of the torch, she could see he was pale and shaken. But for now, he seemed content to let the investigation to run its own course. He hadn't gone berserk, like she had initially feared. Like Marian, however, he was listening to Mary's explanation with growing incredulity.

"I – I fell," she choked out words between sobs. "I did have a drink, I'll be honest about that. But I didn't think I was…"

So far, they had established that their nanny was a drunk. She had fallen and injured herself on several occasions, but blamed the stains on the child to avoid awkward questions. A search of her chambers had revealed bottles concealed everywhere from the inside of the bed, to hidey-holes behind the wood panelled walls.

Guy heaved an indignant sigh, the last of his patience seeping away.

"You told Lady Gisbourne that the Master came to take Seth to meet Tutors," he said, repeating Mary's own words back to her. "Who was that? Because it wasn't me."

Mary looked up at him, beleaguered.

"He was a gentleman," she answered. "He was dressed like a gentleman-"

"Anyone can put on a different set of clothes," Guy cut over, angrily. "But at least we've narrowed it down to half the population, now."

Marian got up, placed her hand on his arm for reassurance before turning back to Mary.

"Is there anything else you can remember? Was there a livery? Any badges that might give us some clue?"

But Mary was convulsing with sobs again, wringing her hands raw. "I'm only a servant," she choked. "It's not my place to ask or question my betters-"

"You've got eyes in your head, haven't you?" Guy snapped, shrugging Marian off. "Could you not see his livery? Could you not give us a description, or were you just blind drunk again?"

Marian could see that they were getting nowhere. She took Guy by the hand and led him outside, to the passage way that led between the cells and out through a side door. They both needed fresh air, to clear their heads and straighten out their tumultuous thoughts. Seth had been missing for six hours and time was of the essence. However, they needed to use it wisely and Guy was teetering on the brink of relapsing into his old ways.

They came to a halt in an old, abandoned garden that had once been used by Marian's father. Sheriff Vaisey had let to run aground and now the rose beds were choked with weeds and litter accumulated in the stagnant pond. The smell was awful, banishing the idea of fresh air, but at least she got him away from the cells and the slowly closing walls.

"This is useless," Guy lamented, kicking out at a dented pewter tankard that was rusting away beside the pond, sending it skidding into the filthy depths. "What the hell was Glasson thinking, giving her such a glowing reference?"

Marian had wondered the same thing. "She probably just wanted to get rid of her," she suggested. "Mary looked after Glasson's boys, but they're adults now. She's had nothing to do since then."

It happened all the time; lazy household staff offloaded onto others with glowing references just to shot of them without impoverishing them. Glasson could not have foreseen the devastating consequences of her actions, but all the same, Marian couldn't keep the bitterness out of her tone whenever she spoke of her father's old friend. To keep herself together, she refocused all her energies on the next step.

"Guy, we must remain calm," she implored him. "Getting Mary worked up into a state isn't helping. We should leave her for a few hours, give her time to settle down and remember everything in peace. All of us bearing down on her at once is scaring the wits out of her."

Guy paced a circle round the pond, before coming to rest again in front of her. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up like a hedgehog. But, he did seem to calm himself, despite his continued trembling. She could see his hands shaking as he chewed nervously at his nail.

"I know," he replied, his tone defeated. "I keep thinking of the Sheriff, but he's still in his cell. He has no access to anyone. There are no letters passing through his cell. He doesn't even have access to writing materials and he can't hide a child in there. How can it be him?"

Marian had been puzzling over that ever since Seth had vanished. Vaisey issued thinly veiled threats to Guy only a few days previously. But all Guy said was true. Vaisey could not possibly be responsible, yet he was the only key suspect they had. Barely six hours in, and already Marian and Guy found themselves at the centre of an unfathomable maze with dead ends and treacherous, false paths at every turn.

She placed her hands at either side of his face, making sure that he was looking directly at her.

"I don't have any answers," she told him, truthfully. "I don't even know how to go about unravelling this. But we've got each other. We'll work it out together and get him back, I can feel it."

She watched his reaction carefully, hoping her words got through. But, before he could answer, they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps running frantically down the gravel path outside the garden.

"Sir Guy … Marian…"

It was Allan A Dale. They clasped each other's hands as they went out to meet the messenger, exchanging pained smiles as they went. They didn't say anything, but she knew they were both braced for bad news, while hoping for the best. The man crashed to a halt as soon as they came into view, sagged forwards panting heavily. It looked as if he'd run from the ends of the earth.

"Visitor," he panted. "The Great Hall."

* * *

Guy stared straight ahead as they marched through the Castle. No one paid any attention to them, however – they were all immersed in the search for Seth. Voices, both distant and near, called his name. Every small, forgotten corner was scoured. Outside, trained huntsmen and expert trackers were setting off for the woods around Sherwood. Whenever he passed a window, Guy glanced outwards, to see the tiny pin-pricks of light from flaming torches vanishing into the woods. The thought of Seth, alone in the woods with his abductor, made his blood run cold.

They reached the Great Hall, empty now, beside the visitor. Guy dimly recognised her, but events of the last few hours had chased the full memory clean from his head. As he, Marian and Allan lined up on the dais before her, she lifted her head and looked directly at him. The memory of their last encounter dropped like a stone in his head.

"It's you again," he wryly observed. "What do you want? To harass me at home, as well as in the street?"

He sensed Marian glancing up at him, silently questioning his acquaintance with this peasant girl. He would explain later.

The girl looked up, her demeanour completely changed from when he last saw her. She didn't look quite so towering in righteous anger, now. She was practically shaking in her boots, but she looked him in the eye and he found himself admiring her for that, at least. In her hands, she held a small package.

"I've come to apologise, Sir Guy," she said, her tone unwavering. "I had no right to speak to you as I did and I want you to know, I didn't mean any of it. I shouldn't have said it."

Guy looked down the length of his nose at her.

"You needn't worry," he replied. "You're not a suspect. All this happened long before your little public show of affection."

Marian frowned, looking between the two of them and trying to fill in the gaps. Kate, however, kept her eyes on Guy.

"I know," said Kate. "I also came to ask what I could do to help. I know almost everyone in these villages and I know the lands. I can organise searches, no matter what the terrain."

Marian's frown had vanished; she was almost beaming.

"Guy, this is brilliant," she interjected. "What is your name?"

"Kate," came the answer. "And on my way in, a man on horseback gave me this package to hand to Sir Guy."

She stepped forwards, offering up the parcel in her hands. Guy took it, frowning at it. There were no markings on the wrapper and no seal. Nothing to identify the sender at all. Marian, Allan and Kate all stepped forwards, eyes fixed on the package as Guy tore off the paper. Inside was a letter and a small, woollen bootie that had belonged to Seth. Guy even recalled putting the matching pair over the boy's feet that morning. His heart leapt into his throat as he turned to the neatly folded letter. Handing to the bootie to Marian, he opened the parchment and to read aloud, then paused with a frown deepening at his brow.

"It's a riddle," he observed, reading over it again.

"Well?" asked Marian, trying to see over his shoulder.

He took a deep breath and read aloud:

"_Seek me high, seek me low;_

_Then your going will be slow._

_For a clue in the dark;_

_Follow the early morning lark._

_To reach the heart of the equation;_

_The place you seek as at the beginning of the end."_

He folded the note and looked around at the faces of the other three. They all looked back at him, as blank as each other.


	6. Another Clue

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, your comments really are appreciated. **Apologies are also due because of the long hiatus this story had been on – it was a slight case of writer's block**. But, back on track now. The usual disclaimers apply: I own none of this.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Another Clue  
**

Marian picked up the note containing the riddle and carried it over to a nearby window. Outside, the light was failing and she had to squint to see the watery ink that marked the old parchment. As she read and reread, one sentence kept catching her eye. When, a few minutes later, she tried to analyse the riddle in its entirety, that same sentence snagged in her mind. "The beginning of the end." It was the only line that both meant something to her and had relevance to their situation. The era of the Sheriff had reached its end, and Guy's rebellion was the beginning of that end. The rest was just doggerel that meant nothing to anyone. Whether she was right or wrong, it was finally something to go on.

Bringing the note with her, she swept out of the darkening Hall and out into the forecourt of the Caste, where Guy was marshalling the troops for another search. He was standing with his new Sergeant at Arms and Allan A Dale, the three of them huddled in a damp triangle, in the soft rain had been falling steadily all evening. The moist air made a haze of the torchlights burning in the brackets along the castle walls and the cold hit Marian in the chest, despite throwing a mink trimmed mantle around her shoulders as she headed out into the night.

"Guy!" she called out to her husband, lifting the hems of her skirts as she descended the steps.

Immediately, Guy broke away from the other two and came up to meet her.

"You should go back inside," he said, gently. "There's nothing more you can do."

"There is," she replied, batting his concerns aside and holding the riddle up to his face. "Look, at it again."

Guy rolled his eyes, sweeping his rain sodden hair from out of his eyes. "It's meaningless drivel. They're toying with us and I'm not giving them the satisfaction-"

"Listen!" she cut over him, moving to his side to show him the line that caught her attention. "The beginning of the end. They mean your rebellion against the Sheriff-"

"But how could the Sheriff have done this? He's been in his cell the whole time," he countered, growing frustrated. Not with Marian, but with the situation as a whole.

"But it wasn't just the Sheriff, was it?" answered Marian. "The Black Knights have lost everything because of what you did. How many of them were there? How many of them were capable of doing something like this?"

The answers were: 'many' and 'all of them'. Marian was beginning to believe that they had been naïve. They had assumed that he Sheriff's old acolytes would simply melt back into the shadows from whence they sprang. They believed the Black Knights would, at worst, simply try to re-ingratiate themselves with the great and the good as thought nothing had happened. Nor for a moment did they think they would try to resurrect themselves through the abduction of a two year old.

While Marian dwelt on that, she realised that Guy had fallen silent. He was thinking it through, she could tell.

"Your rebellion," she said. "Where did it begin?"

"It began here at the Castle, in your old chambers," he replied. "But we know Seth isn't here. The first place we went to was that old tavern run by Allan's friend."

"Then we stopped at the home of my father's friend," she added. "Remember? It was after we rescued him from the dungeons, and you had been stabbed."

Of course he remembered – most of it, anyway. He had been unconscious, but woke up there after a week of fevered ramblings through dreamland. At one point, she had reconciled herself to losing him and, as is the way of all things, it brought about in her a change of heart towards him. She couldn't precisely pin-point the moment in time she fell in love with Guy, but it was roughly about that time.

"Anyone of them would have reason enough to come after me," Guy admitted, "with or without Vaisey's help."

Despite his reservations, Guy was already moving towards the stables. Marian followed him, doing her best to convince him further.

"It's not about who, but where," she said. "Seth's out there, somewhere. We would never forgive ourselves if we passed this clue by and it turned out to be right."

That did it. Guy called for his horse to be saddled and Allan A Dale followed suit as he picked up the scent of impending action. Marian realised they would be needing him, anyway. He had got on rather well with the owner of the Tavern they stayed at, to the point where Marian wouldn't be at all surprised if she welcomed them with a bundle in her belly of her own. However, as she entered the stables, Guy paused with one foot in the stirrup.

"You stay here," he said, stooping to kiss her cheek, now wet with the rain that had intensified.

"What?" she retorted, stepping back as though his kiss had burned her. "I can't stay here while you go riding off into the night!" she protested.

She had never shied from the action when other people's children were involved and she could no more do so for one as good as her own than fly without wings. Bypassing Guy's advice, she carried on reining her own mare and instructed the stable hand to saddle up for her. Guy sighed, making his displeasure known but, at the same time, realising the futility of arguing further.

"Send word to our new friend, Kate, to watch over the Keep," he said, relenting. "I have the sickening feeling we're being drawn outside for an attack on the Castle itself."

"We'll leave our banners here," Allan said, cutting in uninvited. But no one stopped him. "No one will know it's us without the banners and we can leave men at arms behind to patrol the walls."

Soldiers patrolling the ramparts: it'd be just like old times. Under the circumstances, it was the best they could do. Guy nodded, signalling his agreement. As though even the horses had picked up on the tension, they skittered from side to side, growing ever more restless. So, with no further ado, Guy spurred his destrier on and led the way out of the castle, the second Marian was saddled up and ready to go.

* * *

Kate watched them leave from the windows of the Great Hall. Tiny blurs of flame disappearing on the distant horizon as the outriders cleared the road ahead to ease their passing. Not that any of the villagers would dare stand in the way of Guy of Gisbourne while he was in such a towering temper. Only when the torchbearers had completely disappeared from view did she turn from the window. Outside, at her back, the rain grew heavier, beating against the mullions and dripping down the decaying guttering in rivulets. It made her shudder to think of an infant out in that weather, possibly alone and being left to die.

Just as she went to sit at one of the trestle tables, a messenger appeared bearing the Gisbourne seal. She already knew what it said: stay put and wait for Sir Guy and Lady Marian to return. But, she felt so helpless. Never in a hundred years would she have wished this on anyone, not even Guy. But she had spoken those words so easily, so flippantly, that she almost felt responsible for their coming to pass. No matter how much she tried not to think on it, the guilt crept up on her all the same.

"Is there anything I can get you, m'lady?"

The young server's voice startled her, she thought she was alone. It wasn't until he spoke that she realised she a tear sliding down her cheek, either. She hastily swiped it away on her sleeve before turning to face him. He was no older than fourteen, a child himself. Therefore, highly unlikely to refuse her anything despite the difference in their rank.

"It's Kate," she corrected him gently, smiling to ensure there was no rebuke in her words. "I'm certainly not 'm'lady'. And actually, yes there is something you can get for me. The keys to the dungeon."

The boy's eyes widened. "I don't think I can do that, m'lad-"he broke off. "I mean, Kate. Only Sir Guy's Sergeant at Arms has the keys and no one else is allowed in there."

Kate sagged with disappointment. She wanted to speak with Mary, the old Nanny who had been tricked into handing the baby over. If she could get her to talk, or get anyone to talk, it would be something. By 'anyone', she meant the old Sheriff. Despite the seeming impossibility of it, she could not relinquish the theory that somehow he was involved. Nor was she quite willing to admit defeat.

"The Sergeant is still here, isn't he?" she asked. The boy nodded. "Then bring him to me. We'll work together and you won't get into trouble for helping me to break in."

The boy bobbed his head in a form of semi-bow before disappearing through a small side door that Kate had noticed earlier. She assumed it led to the servant's quarters, somewhere deep inside the castle. But, she knew also that the passageways used by the servants led through all the rooms like a hidden network of arteries. Were they policed in any way? Kate found herself following the Server's steps, pausing in the door way and looking down a narrow, twisting staircase. She couldn't see the bottom, it was cast in darkness and the rush lights had burned out long ago. It was bitterly cold in the upward draught, as well, from which Kate surmised that the doors were left open at all times. Although the environment she found herself in offered up many clues as to how the child was abducted, it offered very little by way of clues about who did it. But, there was no harm in speaking more to the servants, anyway. In the meantime, however, she returned to the empty trestle table to wait for the Sergeant at Arms.

* * *

It was fully dark before they even made it past Locksley. The outriders bearing the torches were rendered pointless as the strengthening winds finally snuffed out their flames and drove the freezing rain straight into the faces of the riders. Even with his customary black, boiled leather gloves, Guy's hands seemed frozen to his reins. His vision was blurred by the driving rain and his sodden fringe flopped into his eyes; he couldn't push it back because of hands literally were frozen solid. He suspected that it wasn't just his own body that ached all over from the rough ride, either. But neither Allan nor Marian flagged and their horses thundered over the earth, already churned up by rain. That, at least, was to their advantage: the soft earth was easier on their horse's hooves.

As Guy remembered it, the ride out to the Tavern wasn't so long. But then, they had made that journey in fine, summer weather. He had been stoked on his own adrenaline as he and Marian fled the Sheriff for once and for all. Now, it was the same journey but under completely different circumstances. For one thing, he felt like he was chasing into something, rather than away from it.

Up ahead, the first of the outriders had come to a halt by the side of the road. Guy could just make out his pale skin reflected in the light of the crescent moon. A few minutes later, and the dark bulk of the tavern loomed into view, also. The windows were all dark; Guy hoped it was only because the windows and been shuttered against the appalling night. But, even so, there was still something unsettling him. The whole building was strangely still, despite the storm. He put his unease down to the absence of other patrons – normally there would be dozens seeking shelter.

If Marian had interpreted the note correctly, the man they sought would already have arrived several hours before. Guy surmised that it had to be the tavern, rather than the house they had stayed in. The house was occupied by friends of Sir Edward's, for one thing.

These were all questions that Guy hoped would soon be answered as they all reined in in the forecourt. There didn't seem to be a stable hand on duty, as there had been the last time. But then, they could all be huddled in the stables themselves, given the conditions. At his side, Marian dismounted and lowered the sodden hood of her mantle. Her garment had offered little protection from the elements, and her hair clung to her wet face in soaked, dark tendrils. Her face flushed a raw pink from the wind.

"We sheltered in the stables back then," she said through chattering teeth. "We should check there first."

Guy didn't waste time querying how Seth's abductor would know that, he just went with it. However, he instructed Allan to check inside the tavern while they scouted the stables. The process made all the more difficult by the darkness; they just about managed to get their own mounts tethered. In the near distance, they could hear Allan trying to rouse Emily the tavern keeper. Inside the outhouse and stables, there were just rotting bales of hay. Over their heads, a loose shutter banged noisily and repeatedly against the wattle walls.

"Marian, there's nothing here," he said, touching her elbow to draw her away.

Never one to admit defeat easily, Marian resisted. But even that didn't last long. They hurried across the forecourt, towards the tavern itself, where Allan had taken to pelting the upper windows with stones. The tavern really was closed.

"EMILY!" Allan called out, his voice almost drowned out by the howling wind.

Something hadn't been right from the moment they arrived. Marian had sensed it, too. Guy could see it in her eyes as their gaze locked into each other's as they paused before the main entrance. Together, on the count of three, they all bellowed her name out in unison as Allan hurled another rock at the wooden shutters on the upstairs window. Finally, after another minute of tense silence broken only by the raging storm, the door opened.

Emily's face was pale and terrified in the light of a guttering candle, which she guarded against the sudden gusts. She went to slam the door shut again, but Guy managed to stick his boot in before she could close up again.

"We need to talk to you," he said, raising his voice. "Please. Just for five minutes and we'll be on our way."

Emily had harboured them when they were fleeing from the Sheriff. So Guy could scarcely comprehend why she was so terrified now. Not to the point where she would see them turned out in the midst of a storm that, at that second, finally brought a full grown tree crashing through the roof of her barn. She uttered a shrill cry as she watched the scene unfold and stepped back from the door. As one, Guy, Marian and Allan all pushed their way inside.

Once they were in, Guy looked around the tavern. There were candles sat in dishes on the bar, illuminating the wrecked room. Tables had been over-turned; expensive glasses – what few real glasses she owned – lay shattered on the floor and the hair was heavy with the smell of stale, spilled ale. Whoever had been here had ruined Emily's business; what the attackers started, the storm had finished by flattening the barn she rented out to travellers.

"Jesus, Emmy," said Allan, drawing the trembling Inn Keeper into a hug. "What happened here? Who did this?"

"They will be brought to justice," said Marian, also placing an arm around the girl's shoulders.

Guy continued to survey the damage. Emily ran this place alone, but he knew the Black Knights. He knew they would have no qualms about attacking a lone woman. All Emily had for protection was a large, shaggy dog who currently lay tethered and limply growling by the bar. He could barely lift his head from the ground. When Guy stepped closer to the beast, he could see that a crossbow bolt had not long been pulled from his hind quarters. Repulsed, he turned away, back to Emily and the others.

"Who did this?" he asked, voice low.

He noticed that Emily was dressed in her flimsy night things. If he hadn't been so soaked, he would have offered her his own cloak.

"Men came marching on the road from Nottingham," she explained, shaking all the more violently. To help her, Guy found the one remaining serviceable seat to sit on. She thanked him before continuing her story. "They gave me a message to give to you, Sir. Then they attacked my patrons and destroyed my tavern. Everything is ruined and I'll never be able to replace it." As she spoke, her words dissolved into tears as she broke down in Marian's arms.

"Did you see their banners?" asked Allan. "Do you still have the message?"

"There were no banners, Allan," she replied, slowly extricating herself from Marian. She tottered behind the bar, treading carefully on bare feet. "Here is the letter I was told to give you, Sir."

She proffered the parchment up to Guy, who took it from her with a trembling hand. There was a crunch of broken glass as Marian and Allan moved to stand at Guy's side while he broke the plain wax seal. He groaned inwardly as another riddle, mostly doggerel, could be made out in the light of the candles. Still, he read it out so the others could try and decipher it, too.

"You still haven't found what you're looking for,

But I can give you more.

Come to King Arthur's Seat;

To the Round Table –"

Guy broke off as he looked back at the others, realisation dawning like a kick in the teeth. He cursed heavily as he sunk back against the bar.

"I should have known," Marian said, the expression on her face matching Guy's inner shock. "I should have known that bastard would do something like this!"

Allan had his face buried in his hands, and now Emily was comforting him, rubbing his back in small circles. "King Arthur's seat is in Winchester," said Emily, suddenly doing her best to help.

Marian nodded. "We know," she replied, flatly. Then, she turned to Guy and cupped his face in her hands. "Don't be afraid. We can still get Seth back."

* * *

**Again, apologies for the lateness of this update. Oh, and Happy New Year to all my RH readers!**


End file.
